Bound
by HaloFin17
Summary: An AU in which Patroclus is not Achilles' cousin, but rather a captive whom Achilles has rescued and claimed. Approx two years pre-movie, slash not intended. Rating for some strong adult themes, but nothing explicit. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: **An AU in which Patroclus is not Achilles' cousin, but rather a captive whom Achilles has rescued and claimed. The early development of their relationship in this new context, slash not intended. Set approx. two years pre-movie. Rating for some adult themes, but nothing explicit. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **As usual, I own nothing and no one.

**Author's Note: **It had occurred to me that despite my almost exhaustive exploration of these two characters, I've never really done an in-depth look at the beginnings of their relationship. But considering that I have done a couple of oneshots on the topic and that I mention it almost religiously in every other fic with them, I feared I might essentially end up repeating myself. And who wants to read that? So I've given it a little twist, for better or for worse, just to change things up a little. I admit, this one is quite a bit darker than most of my other Achilles/Patroclus fics, but hopefully it'll still come together happily in the end. Enjoy!

**Chapter 1**

The spoils of war were the spoils of war in any culture, and Achilles son of Peleus was not one to experience guilt over claiming them. Yet today it almost felt wrong, somehow, taking these spoils – moderate valuables and even basic commodities that had once belonged to other Greeks. But there was no option of returning the goods to their original owners now, for those people were all dead. This way, at least, the spoils would remain in Greek hands.

Not that the Greeks were immune to fighting amongst themselves, of course. Only by the persistent, determined efforts of Agamemnon, the High King of Mycenae, had some semblance of order been established in recent years among the independent city states. Achilles himself had little love for Agamemnon, but he had to admit however grudgingly that the idea of unity was sound from both a political and military standpoint.

After all, it wasn't his own lands in Phthia that had been attacked; yet with more efficient communication, it was Achilles and his fearsome Myrmidons that had been called upon to repel these raiders from the North. Macedonians, most likely, who had dipped south into the Greek farmlands to murder and plunder while encountering little or no opposition.

Word must have reached them that the Lion of the Myrmidons was on their trail, however, for they had abruptly turned back northward and attempted to make a harried escape back to the hills of their own country. But they were not fast enough. After nearly a week of hard riding, Achilles and his soldiers had caught up to the marauders and slaughtered them to the last man. Now there was the ensuing business of going through their camp to reclaim anything that could yet be salvaged.

While his men went about their own enterprises, Achilles' attention was drawn to one tent that had been set up slightly apart from the others. The dwelling of a leader, perhaps? Yet the warrior knew immediately upon entering that this tent had been reserved for other purposes altogether. The smell and the stifling closeness of the air were evidence enough to ensure his own conviction, but there near the rear of the shelter was irrefutable proof.

In a far corner of the darkened hut, a pitiful figure lay huddled against the back wall. It was a young man, stripped naked and painfully bound by his hands and feet; he couldn't have been more than fifteen or sixteen years old. Although the child appeared to have a naturally slim build, he was now alarmingly thin from malnutrition. The other signs of abuse were more glaringly obvious, and most of them spoke of such sickening treatment that even a battle-hardened warrior like Achilles would rather not contemplate the details.

Of course, the boy was probably dead by now, as it seemed highly unlikely that he could have survived such an ordeal. Achilles' heart went out in sympathy toward the defenseless prisoner, and he found himself wishing that he could have arrived here earlier, in time to spare this child even a small fraction of his suffering. Or, if nothing else, it was a shame he had not witnessed this scene prior to the battle, so that he might have purposely inflicted even greater pain on the boy's tormentors as just recompense.

But feeling curious and uncommonly optimistic nonetheless, the Greek warlord cautiously stepped forward and knelt to lay his fingers across the captive's throat, searching against hope for a pulse. He was rewarded with far more than that, though, for the youth flinched and even moaned softly at his touch. Alive after all, then!

Achilles grinned and hastily severed the bonds that held the boy's limbs fast, but then suddenly he hesitated. Nursing an abused prisoner back to health would require vast amounts of time, yet there were many other pressing matters that required his attention now as well, including the wellbeing of his own faithful soldiers. Perhaps even a personal interest such as this could still be delegated, as long as it was given to the proper person.

He stepped back out into the piercing sunlight, eyes searching for his trusted second-in-command; and there he found him, chatting and smiling with a few of the other men after their victory.

"Eudorus!" Achilles called. "Come with me; I have a favor to ask of you."

The black-haired Myrmidon nodded and immediately obeyed the summons, but he was admittedly perplexed by his commander's choice of words. Normally with Achilles, a "favor" was no different than any other order. Why should he see fit now to specify between the two? He found himself being led to a tent on the far side of the camp and followed his lord inside. Once he had blinked a few times to let his eyes adjust to the dim light, Eudorus understood completely why he had been brought there.

"He is alive," Achilles supplied in answer without waiting to be asked.

Surprised, Eudorus walked over and dropped to his haunches beside the captive to examine him in turn. "He must be a Greek – a prisoner taken from one of the villages they sacked. I had not expected to find any survivors, especially not here in their camp."

"Nor did I," his commander concurred gravely. "Apparently he was of greater use to them if they kept him alive – even if just barely. I want you to begin caring for him as best you can, Eudorus, and I will check back here later. Don't question him without me, if it can be helped."

A loyal bow answered him, and with that Achilles withdrew, entrusting the frail prisoner to his captain.

His charge must have been even more aware of his surroundings than expected, for as soon as Eudorus attempted to move him, the boy involuntarily began to tremble and weep; but he did not resist. Either he lacked the willpower or the physical strength to do so – perhaps even both. The Myrmidon made a few half-hearted attempts to soothe him, realizing all along that his words were only falling on deaf ears. Finally, he wrapped the youth in a blanket before scooping him up and moving him to one of several fur beds within the shelter. Considering the captive's height, he felt dangerously light-weight.

Much to Eudorus' exasperation, the boy did not quiet when he was laid down again, but rather began to moan and pull his face away from his guardian's inquiring fingers. The Myrmidon sighed, already frustrated with how this situation was playing out. Naturally he felt sorry for the child, but his patience as a primary caregiver was beginning to wear thin. Leaving the boy there for a moment, he went to fetch some healing supplies and boiled a small pot of herbs so the youth could inhale the vapors. That remedy finally helped to settle and calm him so that Eudorus could go about his work.

The warrior took a quick evaluation of the boy's injuries – at least, those that he could see on the outside, for surely there was also more damage internally that remained hidden from his sight. He immediately observed a great number of welts, bruises, and even evidence of marks from teeth that made the older Greek's stomach turn. To make matters worse, the boy's captors had cruelly scorched the soles of his feet – as if everything else they'd done to him wouldn't have been enough to prevent his escape.

Eudorus silently thanked the gods that the youth was unconscious while his injuries were cleansed and dressed. Those raw burns in particular would have been excruciating, and doubtless they would continue to pain him for quite some time. Suspecting that it was also these festering burns which encouraged the fever he felt on the boy's brow, Eudorus lifted the captive's head and forced some cool water down his throat.

The Myrmidon captain also seized this opportunity while it was available to clean the child up in general, which was no small task considering his abused and neglected state. And surely he would not be so calm and compliant once he woke.

As he worked, Eudorus was also taken aback to notice just how strikingly this young man resembled Achilles, for not many Greeks could boast the same fair coloring of his lord and master. Were it not for the considerable age gap between them, the two could practically be mistaken for brothers or cousins. Most likely it was this unique aspect of the boy's appearance which had persuaded his captors to keep him living for their enjoyment, at least for a time.

Achilles himself returned to the tent some hours later, shortly before sunset. His first glance upon entering was for the boy, who by now was lost in a deep slumber; only then did he turn to his comrade, asking, "Will he recover?"

Eudorus nodded slowly. "He is young and was likely strong when they first took him. I believe he will recover as long as he retains the will to do so."

Achilles appeared noticeably relieved. "Thank you, my friend. It will be dark soon; why don't you take some food and then pass the night in here with us as well?"

"Very well, my lord, I shall. But how long do you intend to stay here?"

"The brigands were kind enough to leave this camp set up for us, and so it would seem a shame to waste it. I expect we will remain here at least two or three days before leaving – a bit of time for the men to rest and for him to recover." He nodded briefly in the direction of the unconscious prisoner.

"Do you mean to take him with us, then?"

Achilles shrugged. "I don't know what else is to be done; he'll die if we leave him."

"He still won't be able to walk by then," Eudorus informed his commander, grimacing. "There is only so much we can do right now."

"We'll manage. He can ride with me, but I fear that in and of itself will be painful enough."

"How long do you suppose he was with them? Based on when we first learned of the attacks, he couldn't have been their prisoner for any more than two weeks."

"I would guess only one week at the most," Achilles conjectured. "But it was obviously long enough."

"He does look an awful lot like you, my lord," Eudorus noted with smile. "Is that why you've taken such an interest in him?"

"Partly, I suppose, but there is more to it than that. I can't explain it, Eudorus, but I feel as though this boy is bound to me, and I to him. Perhaps because he is in such desperate need of protecting, whereas it would do me good to have someone to protect."

Eudorus had no response for that, as it was certainly a far more meaningful answer than he had expected to receive.

* * *

><p>Patroclus woke to find his circumstances had not changed much. He was still here in this same dark, hateful tent, but at least he was temporarily free of his bonds and had been granted the rare luxury of a blanket. What could have possibly prompted such 'generosity' on the part of his captors?<p>

He shivered and reflexively curled up tighter on himself, pulling the blanket closer around his shoulders as he did so. Yet he fought to betray as little movement as possible, fearing what new terrors may come with the discovery of his conscious state. He was dreadfully sore, as usual, but at least the pain today felt no worse than he could last remember.

Cracks of sunlight filtering in on the far side of the tent indicated that it was already morning, but surely he couldn't have slept through the entire night? He couldn't even remember the last time he'd been permitted to do that.

There was only one other person in the tent with him now, and the young Greek did not recognize him. The man's dark hair and sun-browned skin were common enough, but surely Patroclus would have remembered such pale and piercing eyes – like two shards of sharp blue ice which contributed greatly to the overall fierceness of the man's appearance. A true warrior, beyond any doubt.

Yet when the stranger finally noticed that Patroclus was awake and caught the youth's eye with his own, he offered a friendly smile of greeting.

"Good morning."

_So it was morning, then._

Patroclus froze at his words, though, having absolutely no trust for the man's smile, and the youth wished desperately that he could somehow shrink under the blanket and disappear. But as it was, he scarcely had the strength to even move. He was caught, as always, and his heart started beating like a war drum inside his chest when he saw the stranger rise and step toward him.

* * *

><p>As soon as Eudorus stood, the boy's blue eyes went wide with fear and utter helplessness, silently begging for him to stop – to come no closer and cause no further pain. But they obviously did not expect him to obey. How well Eudorus knew that look; he had seen it many times among abused captives before. The Myrmidon halted and dropped to his knees several feet in front of the boy, ensuring that he was in plain sight.<p>

"It's all right." His voice was low and steady, as though he was trying to soothe a skittish kitten. "My name is Eudorus, and I am a Greek from Phthia. I promise, the men who hurt you are dead now; we killed them all yesterday. What is your name?"

The youth only frowned at that, for certainly none of his previous captors would have bothered with such a question. When there was no answer, Eudorus was briefly tempted to press him, but thought better of it. It was too early to expect much cooperation from the prisoner. And besides, hadn't Achilles wanted to be here when the child was questioned?

The boy shifted where he lay, wincing in pain from the movement, and then he abruptly glanced down at his feet as though noticing them for the first time.

"You're welcome," Eudorus stated evenly when he saw that his charge had finally taken note of the bandages. "Those burns on your feet are clean now, but the skin is raw, and several of the blisters were already broken. You will require careful attention there for some time yet."

The child was staring back at him now, obviously confused. Eudorus stood again, retrieved some water, and came back over toward the boy, much closer this time.

"You are dehydrated and feverish, child. You must drink to fight off the infection from your wounds."

But the boy stubbornly closed his mouth and shied away. Why should he be so resistant even to water? Perhaps he expected that anything being presented to him would have been drugged first. Eudorus took a long sip of the water himself, making sure the boy was watching him, before offering the cup again.

"You must be very thirsty."

The demonstration must have been convincing enough, for the child opened his lips this time and drank greedily until the cup was dry.

When that was done, Eudorus remained kneeling in front of the boy and slowly pulled the blanket back partway down to his hips. The youth shivered, and Eudorus could hear his rate of breathing increase dramatically. But there was still no fight, not even any pleading; just the sound of soft weeping as the child anticipated the worst.

"Easy. I don't want to hurt you."

But it would be difficult for Eudorus to avoid hurting the prisoner if he wished to accomplish his desired task. It was painfully obvious what the boy had endured up until yesterday, but Eudorus still wanted to gauge for himself just how severe the internal damage was. He reached down beneath the blanket and very gently applied pressure to the lower part of the stomach. The boy immediately groaned out, not in fear this time, but in actual pain. The older man moved his touch around a bit, always evoking the same response.

This was bad. Eudorus let his hand linger there a moment, actually feeling for the first time how frightfully skinny the youth was. His mobility would be very limited, and they would have to start him slowly on a simple diet of broth and soups. It would be a long and unpleasant recovery.

"You should try to relax," he told the boy grimly while covering him up again. "You're not doing yourself any favors by staying tense like that. I'll get you some food, as well."

The Myrmidon rose and turned his back to the youth, but the surprise of words being spoken from behind made him halt.

"What do you want with me?"

Eudorus looked back at his charge, secretly grateful that the boy had at last found sufficient courage to speak.

"Right now, I want only for you to rest and begin to recover," he replied.

Those deep blue eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why?"

Eudorus sighed and answered truthfully, "Because those are my lord's orders."

Though his face was yet childish, the course of nature had already lowered the boy's voice into a deeper register; he was also very hoarse, probably from long nights of screaming.

But what more was to be done to pacify him? It seemed all Eudorus had to do was move, and it would send the child into a veritable panic. Perhaps he would simply have to panic for a while until he learned for himself that he was in no danger; well, at least in no _great_ danger. For truth be told, Eudorus still had no idea what Achilles' personal plans were for the rescued captive, but surely it couldn't be anything too terrible if he wished to have the boy cared for like this. Only time would tell for certain.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary: **An AU in which Patroclus is not Achilles' cousin, but rather a captive whom Achilles has rescued and claimed. The early development of their relationship in this new context, slash not intended. Set approx. two years pre-movie. Rating for some adult themes, but nothing explicit. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **As usual, I own nothing and no one.

**Author's Note: **Before posting chapter two here, I would like to thank everyone who's showed interest in the beginnings of this fic, and especially to **Lauren is me, ILoveVampireDiaries, & TwilightEyes85** for reviewing. I hope the update is sufficiently satisfying for your curiosities. Enjoy!

**Chapter 2**

Later that day, a third man joined them. Patroclus was struck at once by how very strong he looked, and also by the man's golden locks of hair which were only a somewhat lighter color than his own. The newcomer quickly looked to where his prisoner lay and caught his eye, steadily returning the stare. Patroclus' heart pounded, yet he found he could not bring himself to look away. Whoever this man might be, there was something strangely compelling about him – as though his mere presence commanded enough authority to bend an army to his will.

Eudorus obviously knew him, though, for he joined the golden-haired stranger on the far side of the tent where they bent their heads close together, speaking in hushed tones. And Patroclus had no doubt that he was the topic of their conversation. When at length they broke apart, the new man stepped forward while nodding for Eudorus to take a seat off to one side.

He then fixed his unwavering blue gaze on the captive and addressed him. "You can relax, young one. We mean you no harm, but I do expect you to answer my questions." He deliberately paused a moment for that statement to sink in. "What is your name?"

Patroclus did not need long to consider. He so badly wanted to be bold and defiant, but the memory of his torment was too fresh. Fear of its repetition still controlled him, even though his new captors had not harmed him. Yet.

Finally, drawing in a deep breath, he told the truth. "Patroclus – son of Menoetius."

The tawny warrior solemnly nodded his greeting. "Patroclus, I am Achilles, son of Peleus."

The youth blinked, as though doubting that he had heard correctly. "Achilles? _You're _Achilles of the Myrmidon?"

Obviously pleased that his new captive had heard of him, Achilles exchanged amused glances with Eudorus and smiled. "Yes, I am he; and I'm told you've already met Eudorus."

But Patroclus, for his part, was equally both awed and intimidated by this revelation. He had heard many stories about Achilles, of course, as the man's pride and volatile temper were almost as legendary as his unmatched prowess in battle. In fact, he was often said to be quite ruthless, slaughtering men effortlessly and without a second thought. Surely Patroclus would never be able to escape from such a man – much less resist him, if his intentions should prove comparable to those of his previous jailors.

"How old are you?" Achilles asked next, rousing the youth from his thoughts.

"Fifteen," was the subdued response, and then a very timid, "What are you going to do with me?"

"Right now, there is only one thing that needs to be done."

The warlord gestured to his colleague, and Patroclus' panic returned in earnest when both men strode toward him with purpose in their steps. Achilles knelt at his side, Eudorus down by his feet. The boy's heart raced; this couldn't be good! He didn't have long to contemplate his fate, though, before Achilles held out a strip of leather in front of his face.

"Bite down on this; you'll need it."

The youth's eyes widened, horrified. "What are you doing?" Whatever it was, there was no way he would be able to stop them.

But Eudorus calmly explained, "The old skin needs to be removed from the burns on your feet to promote healing. It will be very painful, but it is necessary."

Understanding and apprehension alike slowly dawned on Patroclus as he obediently opened his mouth without another word to accept the proffered strap from Achilles' hand.

Eudorus unwound the bandages around the boy's feet to begin his task, while Achilles held his legs steady near the knee. This left Patroclus' upper body essentially unrestrained, but there was nothing he could do with the freedom. For he could scarcely sit upright without assistance, and his captors knew it. They just wanted to prevent him from kicking out with his legs and causing more damage either to himself or to his caretaker.

Meanwhile, Patroclus took full advantage of the leather between his teeth, using it to stifle his screams as the intensity of the pain produced both sweat and tears. When the chore at last was done, Eudorus dressed the burns in fresh bandages again, and Achilles bathed his captive's flushed face with a cool, damp cloth. But the youth's feet still hurt him so badly that he barely noticed.

"It will get easier each time," Achilles attempted to assure him, but that was hardly how Patroclus perceived it.

_Each time?_ he thought woefully. _You mean we'll have to do this again?_

The warrior then held a cup of water to his lips, which he swallowed out of reflex.

"Close your eyes and relax," Achilles urged him, and it was so blessedly easy to obey. The pain had utterly drained Patroclus of whatever energy or adrenaline he possessed, pulling his eyelids down and dragging him into unconscious even while his captor was still bent over him.

* * *

><p>"Patroclus?"<p>

Now awake after a few hours of exhausted slumber, the youth looked up from where he lay and saw Eudorus coming toward him with some black clothing in his hands.

"These are for you," the older man explained succinctly. "They'll be a bit loose on you for a while, but thankfully you're tall enough to fit into them."

He then proceeded to successfully help Patroclus into the new garments, in spite of how the boy would jerk away every time incidental contact was made against his skin.

Eudorus pursed his lips in mild irritation. "You know you don't have to be afraid of me; Achilles would have my head if I hurt you."

Patroclus did not seem overly consoled; if anything, he appeared even more frightened and confused now than he had twenty-four hours ago. "But then what does Achilles want with me?"

"I truly do not know, child. But although my commander can be a confusing man at times, he is hardly cruel. Not like the men who took you."

"Can I trust him?"

The boy's eyes begged for honesty, and Eudorus sighed, wishing that he could offer a better answer to such an innocent question. "That is something you must learn for yourself."

With such little reassurance to be had, it was extremely difficult for Patroclus to relax and receive treatment in the same tent where he had been tortured and abused not long before. Every shape and shadow about the place caused him to spook like a horse at thunder, and he was constantly anxious at night in the dark, even long after Achilles and Eudorus had gone to sleep.

* * *

><p>A whipping rainstorm the next day confined all of them indoors, stranding Patroclus alone with Achilles, since Eudorus was off seeing to some of the other Myrmidons. The two of them seemed to take turns staring at one another from across the tent.<p>

For his part, Achilles instinctively felt compelled to care for this tortured child and protect him from further harm; but he wanted more than that, as well. For some reason he could not explain, Achilles was determined to truly know the boy and win his trust – even if his chosen methods for doing so were somewhat less than conventional.

Patroclus wanted to squirm under Achilles' constant scrutiny, but movement only resulted in more pain. There was no point in pretending to be brave now. He absently rubbed at the purple bruises on his wrists from where he had been bound. At least thus far Achilles had not seen fit to restrain him so intensely; there was no need.

But Patroclus also wondered at the man's apparently insatiable interest in him. Hadn't he suffered enough already? Why couldn't the great warlord simply kill him and end his misery, or at least sell him off into an obscure life of slavery? He hated just waiting like this, not knowing what to expect from a man as infamously unpredictable as Achilles. The warrior rarely went out of his way to placate the boy's fears of him, but neither had he given his prisoner any legitimate reason to doubt his intentions.

Achilles must have noticed how uptight his captive was. "You should get some more rest while you can. It will be a long and difficult journey back to my home in Phthia."

"You're taking me with you?" The youth sounded surprised, but had he really expected anything different?

"Of course, I am; I shouldn't have gone to all this trouble if I meant to just leave you behind. I expect you and I will be sharing each other's company for quite some time."

That last remark stirred up a confused flurry of emotions inside Patroclus' stomach, yet he decided now would be as good a time as ever to employ some shameless begging. "Please just let me go; let me go home."

Achilles' response was rather harsh. "Go where? You have no home now, and no way of getting there even if you did."

"But why force me to stay with you?" his prisoner entreated. "We are not enemies."

"No, but you are an orphan."

They boy flinched at those words as though he had physically been struck. "You don't know that."

"Yes, actually, I do. I know a massacre when I see one, Patroclus, and those brigands left no one alive behind them as they tore through villages like yours. Eudorus and I were shocked even to find you as a survivor. Besides," Achilles went on, "by all laws and rights, you are _my _captive now, and you have no say in this matter."

Patroclus did not attempt to bring up the topic again.

* * *

><p>Achilles delayed their departure even another day longer than he'd originally intended, largely to ensure that Patroclus' fever had subsided in full; but eventually the morning dawned when it was time to be on their way. Now that Patroclus finally looked so peaceful in his sleep, Achilles almost hated to wake him; for surely the youth had not slept so soundly throughout the night. Even now, his thin cheeks were damp with tears. But he had to be roused, for it was time to leave.<p>

He knelt down to gently shake him by the shoulder. "Patroclus, wake up. We're going."

The boy's eyelids fluttered open, and his breath caught in his throat when he realized exactly who was next to him. But he offered no resistance when Achilles removed the blanket from his back and picked him up without another word. It was then, nestled in Achilles' arms for the first time, that Patroclus realized this man was indeed every bit as strong as one might expect based on his appearance. Even healthy, there would be no way Patroclus could contend with him; Achilles made the effort of carrying him seem no greater than what he might expend in carrying a toddler.

Though he made no comment or announcement to his troops, Achilles held his company to a considerably slower speed than they might normally travel. He also had Patroclus situated sideways in front of him so that both of his legs hung down on one side of the horse, hoping it would help ease some of the inevitable discomfort; but it was not enough to counteract what was easily a week's worth of abuse.

The pain was unbearable. Despite the awful jarring motion of the horse, Patroclus closed his eyes and bit down on his lip until it bled to keep from crying out. The effort of simply resisting the constant agony was exhausting, until eventually even his pride was conquered, and his head bumped weakly against Achilles' shoulder. But still he held his mouth shut for fear of drawing unwanted attention to himself.

Patroclus looked like he was on the verge of being literally sick from pain, though, by the time the Myrmidons stopped to dismount for the night. And only then, when Achilles finally saw that ashen face, did he realize that he had still ridden much too hard that day. Uttering a vicious curse that was directed entirely at himself, the warlord very carefully lifted the injured teen from his horse; Patroclus did not even have the strength now to wrap his arms around his captor's neck like he'd done that morning.

"I'm sorry," Achilles murmured into the boy's ear as he carried him toward a recently-constructed shelter. And even amidst the pain that rang in his brain, Patroclus could detect the sincerity and concern in those words. Not that it mattered, he thought bitterly. The gods only knew he didn't need pity now; he needed _rest_!

"You are very brave," Achilles went on softly, hoping the boy would hear and understand him despite his anguish. "But it was not necessary; you should have said something."

_What good would it have done? _Patroclus wondered distantly. And yet, there was something about hearing a kind, sympathetic word that seemed to finally liberate the expression of his suffering, and a pitiful whimper escaped from his lips even as he was still held in Achilles' arms. The tears followed once they were inside the shelter and out of sight from the other Myrmidons; Patroclus couldn't have possibly stopped them now, nor did he even care to try. Achilles didn't seem to mind either as he gently laid the boy on the firm ground; he was too busy hating himself for having let it come to this in the first place.

Once free of his captor's hold, Patroclus wrapped his arms around his throbbing abdomen, groaning, while Achilles looked on and silently cursed his own stupidity. Evidently he had not waited long enough before departing, and it could not go on like this if he expected to get his new captive home alive. But what could possibly be done now to alleviate such pain? Achilles knew there was not much. Since moving the boy again in this state would be something akin to cruelty, he simply covered Patroclus with a couple of furs and withdrew to seek Eudorus.

By the time he found his second, the warlord's decision had been irrevocably made.

"Eudorus, I need you to take the men tomorrow morning and lead them the rest of the way to Phthia."

Although no stranger to his master's whims, Eudorus still raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Why, my lord? What about you?"

"The men are anxious to be home, and they would have gladly ridden even faster than we did today. But Patroclus cannot yet travel at such a pace. I plan to stay here with him for a day before setting out again, to give him a bit of time to recover from today's ride. Then I shall have to go very slowly for his sake, probably stopping frequently so he can have the chance to rest."

"I will stay behind to travel with him, if you like."

Achilles actually cracked a smile at his friend's offer. "Thank you, Eudorus, but there is no need. I am confident you take care of everything back home for a couple of weeks, just as I can handle anything that might happen here along the road."

* * *

><p>Patroclus was either asleep or passed out from pain and exhaustion when Achilles stepped back into his tent; he truly could not tell which. The warrior eventually went to bed himself, but he woke in the middle of the night to the fresh sound of crying – of sobbing would have been a more accurate description. He listened for a moment and frowned; those were not the tears of mere physical discomfort.<p>

The child was still right where his captor had left him, so Achilles went and sat near his side. He did not know if the boy had heard him coming.

"Patroclus? Are you all right?" It was a silly thing to ask, of course, but what else was there to say?

The boy tried unsuccessfully to swallow his ragged, gasping sobs into hiccups. "My parents," he finally choked. "All my friends. Everyone I knew…"

Ah, so that explained the tears. "Is this the first time you've truly grieved for them?"

Patroclus nodded in response; he had never really had a chance to mourn before now.

"You should weep for yourself, too," Achilles suggested gently, "for your own misfortune. There is no shame in that."

But the boy shook his head in abject misery. "I just want to go home."

"We _are _going home."

"You are." Patroclus had no further comment after that, for it had already been proven that Achilles would surely win any argument between them. Instead, the bitter intensity of his tears returned, and this time the youth made no attempt to hinder them.

Observing his captive in quiet pity, Achilles longed to offer some sort of consolation, yet he hesitated for fear of not knowing how any such gesture might be received. Ultimately, he settled for laying a hand on the child's bony shoulder, which seemed agreeable enough to both of them. Patroclus didn't try to shrug off the touch, but he might have just been too tired or resigned at the moment to care.

The Myrmidon warlord was then content to sit there patiently until his prisoner had finally cried himself to sleep, at which point Achilles lifted the boy in his arms and carried him to his bed. They weren't going anywhere tomorrow, after all, so he could withstand the loss of an hour's sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary: **An AU in which Patroclus is not Achilles' cousin, but rather a captive whom Achilles has rescued and claimed. The early development of their relationship in this new context, slash not intended. Set approx. two years pre-movie. Rating for some adult themes, but nothing explicit. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **As usual, I own nothing and no one.

**Author's Note: **Lookie, all, a new chapter! My deepest thanks to **SBPride, Trollmela, ILoveVampireDiaries, & triniwriters **for their positive reviews, and to everyone else who's been reading along, showing an interest in this new fic. I appreciate it very much, and I do hope you enjoy the continuation here!

**Chapter 3**

When Patroclus next woke, he guessed by the light that it was already late morning. He had been relocated since falling asleep last night, he noted, but Achilles was already up and about. That was odd. Patroclus had already noticed that the Lord of the Myrmidons seemed to prefer sleeping late whenever possible, but weren't they supposed to be traveling again this morning? And where were the sounds of everyone else around the camp?

He yawned and unthinkingly tried to sit up – a very bad idea. Any illusion of comfort vanished in an instant as the pain came over him like a tidal wave, and he slumped weakly back down to the furs. Gods, he was still so sore! He dreaded having to ride all day again, but it wasn't as though he could walk, either. What else was to be done?

Just then, Achilles came into the tent with food for both of them. He was dressed more casually than yesterday and appeared to be in no great hurry, for he had no orders that they eat quickly.

Patroclus' perplexity finally grew to the point where he felt bold enough to dare a question. "Are we not traveling again today?"

The warrior shook his golden head. "No, we – meaning you and I – are not. The rest of my men have already left with Eudorus. We two will leave again tomorrow, after you spend today resting."

The shock was as dazing as any physical blow. Achilles was staying behind…for _him?_ He truly was sorry about yesterday!

There was only one thing to say to that, but a long moment still passed before Patroclus could articulate a very meek and simple, "Thank you, Achilles."

And the son of Peleus himself was not surprised so much by the boy's gratitude, but rather at how Patroclus had called him by his name, "Achilles," while addressing him for the first time. Even his own Myrmidon brothers, the fiercest soldiers in all of Greece, universally addressed him as "my lord". But Achilles was not about to discourage such boldness; after all, he had first introduced himself to Patroclus as "Achilles", so perhaps he should not have expected anything different.

"You are welcome," he said simply. "It was never my intention to see you hurt again like this."

"Then what are your intentions?" It was a brave question coming from a boy who could scarcely look him in the eye.

Achilles answered sincerely, "I intend for you to have a second chance at life – not the life you had before, I know. But a new life."

"A life with you?" Patroclus clarified.

"I think that would be fairly obvious, yes. At least for a while, Patroclus; for the day may come when you and I shall part ways, but until then, you are too young. Too young to be living on your own, and much too young to be despairing about your future."

_What future? _Patroclus thought dismally. Even if Achilles had meant well, no amount of kind words or good intentions would change the fact that he was now a captive and a slave to the most powerful warrior in all of Greece.

* * *

><p>Patroclus remained in bed all day, resting as much as possible while battling the constant ebb and flow of his discomfort. Achilles came and went from the shelter at his leisure, checking periodically on his prisoner; and that night, when the warlord climbed into bed beside his captive, he took great care not to disturb him. Personally, he could see no point in moving Patroclus to new sleeping arrangements if the boy was comfortable here; there were only enough furs available to make one suitable bed in the tent, anyway.<p>

The younger Greek had been sleeping then, but dreams would not long permit him to rest peacefully. He later awoke in a cold sweat, weeping and trembling in remembered horror. His entire body ached fiercely, and he squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to block out the hateful memories. He also sought to quiet his involuntary sobs for fear of rousing the man next to him and incurring his anger. Little did he know that Achilles was already wide awake, feigning slumber with his back turned toward his prisoner.

The Myrmidon Lion had a distinct reputation for loving sleep too much, but in truth, he was actually a very light sleeper. A lifetime of warfare would not have allowed otherwise. He had been aware as soon as Patroclus' nightmares began their onslaught, much like had happened in previous nights. During those earlier times, no matter how badly he might have wanted to try to comfort the child, he had always decided against it, for it was still too soon. Perhaps tonight, though, he could attempt something to pacify those pitiable tears.

Achilles rolled over and reached out to lay his hand on back of the boy's head. Patroclus immediately tensed under that touch, as though waiting to see what the older man would do. But Achilles only stroked his hair a couple of times before turning back over and leaving him in peace. The warrior did listen for a reaction, though, and was rewarded when Patroclus' tears gradually subsided and the youth grew quiet in slumber once again. Satisfied with that result, Achilles soon fell back to sleep himself.

* * *

><p>Patroclus was entirely dependent upon Achilles as they traveled, an inescapable necessity no matter how much the boy wished it to be otherwise; his captor was surprisingly attentive, though. They made very slow progress on their first day of riding together, but Patroclus' pain still came back with a vengeance before long. Desperate for a reprieve, he was practically gasping in his efforts to speak around the pain as he begged.<p>

"Achilles, can we stop? Please?"

The Myrmidon lord did so at once and without complaint. He lifted the boy down and let him simply lie there on the dusty ground, regretting all the while there was not a spot of softer, grassier land nearby. Achilles gave his captive some water, but after that, there was not much either of them could do except wait for the worst of the spell to pass.

"I'm glad you said something this time."

Much to Patroclus' relief, the warrior didn't sound angry at all, but almost amused or very gently teasing instead. Achilles then waited patiently until some of the color had returned to Patroclus' face, and the youth mutely nodded to indicate that he was ready to start again.

It made for a long day, though, and by the time they finally stopped for the night, it was Patroclus' turn to wait. For all he could do was lay pitifully on his side until Achilles could construct a simple structure and then carry him in to the bed they shared.

Laid at last on the soft furs that had come to symbolize rest, Patroclus longed for nothing more than to close his eyes and forget the outside world entirely until his captor roused him the next morning. Unfortunately, Achilles had other plans.

"Patroclus, I'm afraid we still have to do this," he announced gravely, sitting down at the edge of their bed and lifting one of Patroclus' feet onto his lap. The youth's heart immediately sank in trepidation; nevertheless, he nodded weakly and stuffed a handful of cloth from his tunic into his mouth for good measure.

It was different this time without Eudorus there. Achilles was not rough in his work, but it was still extremely difficult for Patrolus not to let his reflexes take over and kick out against the pain. For he truly did want to cooperate and had no desire whatsoever to accidentally hurt his captor. That wouldn't go over well, even though it was probably more difficult than he realized to actually damage Achilles.

The warlord seemed to keep one eye on his captive throughout the entire excruciating process, pausing every now and then to allow Patroclus a respite. The youth's hands were clenched into tight fists around the plush furs while he shook, panting and sweating in his agonizing efforts to remain still.

But as the following days of their journey passed in a similar manner, the regular treatment thankfully grew more bearable, and the bandages on Patroclus' feet progressively shrank.

One afternoon they stopped earlier than usual to rest for the night, and when the noise from the horse's hooves had ceased, Patroclus could hear the distinctive gurgling of a brook nearby. Achilles began the mundane chore of setting up their camp, but long before he had finished, he came over and lifted Patroclus once again in his strong arms. The youth wrapped one arm around the older man's neck as they walked, suddenly apprehensive of their destination since Achilles was obviously headed away from the site of the camp. Yet the warrior stopped when they reached the creek and set the boy down beside its banks, near enough that even he could easily reach the water without much movement.

"Here," Achilles said, handing the child some soap and a clean cloth. "These waters are cold but fresh. Wash up as best you can, and I will come back for you shortly."

Patroclus nodded and set about the necessary task as soon as his captor had disappeared from sight. The water was indeed cold, but the boy was determined to make sure he was finished before Achilles returned to collect him.

* * *

><p>"We are only two or three days from Phthia now," Achilles informed his prisoner late one evening.<p>

He hoped it would only be two days, considering how the boy's health had improved recently. Though their pace continued to be slow, the two Greeks were now able to travel with minimum stops. Achilles would halt once or twice when he deemed it best, but apart from that, Patroclus had no need to ask for additional reprieves. Furthermore, the boy was no longer so inclined to fall asleep in sheer exhaustion at the first given opportunity, but rather had enough energy to stay awake and keep his captor company at night for a time. The resiliency of youth had indeed been kind to him thus far – at least physically.

At that moment, Achilles was again examining Patroclus' feet, and the warrior was greatly pleased with what he saw. The burn wounds had improved significantly over the past two weeks, and although the boy's feet were still bandaged to keep them clean, Achilles could now touch them without causing much pain.

"Are you ready to start walking again?"

Patroclus propped himself up on his elbows but did not answer right away, nervously running his tongue over his lips; he had grown so accustomed to _not _being able to walk now that the return of such a normal function was almost intimidating.

"Do you think I'm ready?" he asked at length.

Achilles pressed his callused thumb against what had been one of the worst burns. "Does that hurt?"

The boy shrugged. "Not really."

"Then I think you should try. After all," the elder Greek teased, "you're getting heavier to carry now that you're no longer made of just skin and bones. We'll have you try taking a few steps in the morning, with me to help you."

He began to rewrap the bandages for the night before broaching another subject. "And tell me, Patroclus, how are you feeling now apart from your feet?"

"What? Oh." Patroclus felt his face flush as he suddenly understood the implications of Achilles' question. "Umm…it feels better, I suppose."

"But are you still in pain?" the warrior pressed him.

It was certainly the last thing Patroclus wanted to talk about, yet he answered truthfully all the same. "It doesn't hurt so much in the morning anymore, but by the end of the day, yes."

"Good." Achilles nodded his satisfaction. "I'm sorry it's taken so long, but you are healing."

"I know." Patroclus closed his eyes and laid his head back down against the furs, marking what both of them must have agreed was an end to the conversation.

The next morning, Achilles lifted Patroclus from their bed like usual, but he then removed his arm from under the boy's knees so that his feet dropped to the ground. With both of them standing upright now, it finally became obvious that the two traveling companions were very nearly the same height in spite of their age difference.

Patroclus laid his arm across Achilles' shoulders while the warrior had one arm wrapped securely around his waist to prevent him from falling. It was embarrassing to have to lean against Achilles like this, but since when did Patroclus care about that after having been daily carried for the past two weeks? Somehow this was almost more humiliating, more indicative of his weakness, even if there was no one else there to witness it. After all, it was one thing to be literally "carried away" as a captive; it was another altogether to realize that he did not even have the strength to stand under his own power.

With Achilles supporting him, the boy took a couple of limping steps forward. His feet were not hurting him, yet the mere memory of pain made him hesitant to put his full weight on them. And besides that, Patroclus was still weak. Even if his feet were completely healed and ready to carry the burden of his stride, the rest of his body had a long way to go before regaining any of its former strength and endurance.

"You are doing well," Achilles encouraged him when the experiment was concluded. "All it will take is time."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary: **An AU in which Patroclus is not Achilles' cousin, but rather a captive whom Achilles has rescued and claimed. The early development of their relationship in this new context, slash not intended. Set approx. two years pre-movie. Rating for some adult themes, but nothing explicit. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **As usual, I own nothing and no one.

**Author's Note: **Well, I must say I'm happy to have another timely update for you on this story. Once again, my gratitude goes out to **SBPride, Trollmela, ILoveVampireDiaries, TwilightEyes85 & triniwriters **for their encouraging feedback! And now I release you all to enjoy this next installment, in which we finally see the development of deeper trust and even a bit of much-needed fluffiness. Enjoy!

**Chapter 4**

By the time they at last reached Achilles' dwelling in Phthia, Eudorus was there waiting to greet them.

"Welcome home, my lord," he said with a bow to Achilles; he then turned his attention to Patroclus, smiling. "And you, my young friend, are looking much improved since I last saw you. Are you well enough to walk yet?"

"Very nearly," Achilles answered for the child. He eased his prisoner down from the horse to where Eudorus' arms were ready to help support him if needed. Patroclus could indeed walk short distances on his own now, but he still tired quickly, and even a routine venture from the stables to the house might be too much to ask of him at this point. The boy made it the entire distance, but he required no small amount of assistance from Eudorus along the way as they followed Achilles into his home.

There did not appear to be anything truly exceptional about the building – certainly not like one would expect for a ruler of Achilles' stature. The house was a decent size, although hardly large enough to support any of the servants' quarters Patroclus had been expecting to find. Where was he supposed to stay, then?

Eudorus carefully deposited him on a couch in the main living area to rest, and the older Greeks spoke together briefly of all that had transpired in Achilles' absence. Frankly, it didn't sound like anything terribly important, at least not as far as Patroclus could tell. The two Myrmidons then withdrew into other parts of the house, and Patroclus cursed his lack of mobility, that he could not even rise to follow them or explore the place on his own. But perhaps it was just as well. After all, it wouldn't do for him to get into some sort of trouble within the first hour of their arrival.

Achilles and Eudorus returned to his location presently, the latter taking his temporary leave to carry out whatever new orders he had received from his lord. And seeing that his charge still appeared weary after the walk, Achilles scooped him up easily and carried him back into the section of the house from which he and Eudorus had just emerged. Patroclus sighed at being picked up like a feeble infant once more, but he did not protest against it. Now that he was actually close to the freedom of being able to walk again, his patience for this whole healing process was growing rather thin.

The Myrmidon commander soon stepped across the threshold of a spacious chamber dominated by a huge bed, which Patroclus eyed at once with apprehension; obviously this was Achilles' personal bedroom. However, there was also a couch comfortably situated off in one corner, and it was here that the warrior placed his captive.

"This is where you'll be sleeping, at least for now," he informed the boy. "And it is already late, so you might as well make yourself comfortable and try to rest. There are other matters that I must see to now, but I will be back here later tonight. I'm just not sure how much later."

Patroclus nodded his understanding, yet he never did know how late it was when Achilles finally returned to the chamber. He had fallen asleep long before then.

* * *

><p>A couple more weeks went by, and even as Patroclus steadily progressed in his recovery, his circumstances did not change. He had expected that once his mobility had returned in full, he would be moved at last to different lodging and assigned some sort of servant's work beyond an occasional errand for Achilles that rarely lasted longer than two minutes; but surprisingly, none of it had happened. And yet thus far, he had been subjected to nothing worse than Achilles' company. He was not exactly being treated like a guest, since he still slept in Achilles' room and was almost constantly under his supervision; but all the same, such treatment hardly seemed fitting for a common slave.<p>

Between Achilles' own lifestyle preferences and Patroclus' growing teenaged body, there were many days on which the two of them would not wake until the sun was high and the morning hours were nearly spent. That was certainly a change, as Patroclus knew his parents would never have allowed him to sleep so late. And furthermore, he was still getting used to the sensation of waking up warm and _safe _in his own bed again every morning. It felt strange somehow, and he often found himself wondering how long it would last.

He simply did not understand. Apparently it was Achilles' desire that the two of them grow closer, so why had he chosen now of all times to start distancing them at night, after they'd spent nearly three weeks sleeping in the same bed while traveling? Shouldn't Achilles have been attempting the opposite, to draw him even closer now that they were "home"? Patroclus found it all very confusing.

Though there were often visitors to the home, usually other Myrmidons who would laugh and spar with Achilles while Patroclus watched in wide-eyed fascination, it was just the two of them who actually dwelt and slept there. Perhaps it would have been a somewhat lonely house even for Achilles if he had to live there entirely by himself.

The other Myrmidons also grew quickly accustomed to seeing Patroclus trailing around in the wake of their leader, and many of them were even friendly and engaging toward him. Patroclus' clear favorite among Achilles' subordinates, however, remained Eudorus. It was always a treat for the youth to see him and talk with him, and he had even made quick friends with the older man's pet hounds.

And for his own part, Eudorus was delighted to see how well Patroclus appeared to be adapting to his new life. It was truly gratifying to see a rosy, youthful energy return to the boy's smiling face as though it had always belonged there.

Winter was fast approaching when Achilles called for Patroclus to join him by the seaside late one afternoon.

"There is someone I'd like you to meet," Achilles told him, but Patroclus couldn't help thinking that the ocean seemed an odd place to go for an introduction. Unless Achilles wanted him to meet someone who had just arrived by ship?

But they went nowhere near the sheltered bay where ships usually docked to visit Phthia; instead, Achilles led them to a small rocky cove where the water was calm and pure. And much to the youth's surprise, a lady clothed in violet stood knee-deep in the shallows. Though her face bore some lines of age and care, there remained an unmistakable beauty about her countenance. She reached out to Achilles when the two of them had drawn near and kissed him on the cheek with all the familiarity of one who had done so many times before.

The Myrmidon lord then turned and motioned for his companion to step closer as well. "Patroclus, this is my mother, Thetis."

Of course, Patroclus understood who she was – a goddess of the sea! He immediately bowed his head and lowered his eyes; but her soft, cool hand caressed his cheek and tilted his head upward again so she could hold his gaze. Like Achilles', her eyes were the same blue color as the deepest part of the ocean.

"Achilles has told me much about you, Patroclus," Thetis said warmly, "and I am deeply sorry for all that you have lost. But you are welcome now in Phthia, and you shall have a good home here."

There was that word again: _home. _And why was she being so kind and affectionate toward him? They had just met, and he was only a servant. Yet, he could not deny that it was still nice. After having spent so much time amongst only grown men, he'd almost forgotten what a mother's love was like; but being reminded only brought more persistent tears to his eyes. Thetis smiled and tenderly brushed away the drops with gentle fingers; there was pure understanding in that smile, with not a hint of mockery whatsoever.

She spoke again, "Let there be no more despair for you, sweet child, for I perceive that the purpose of your life has not yet run its course. So be strong for the sake of those you loved, and live now for your future – not for a past which cannot be altered."

The youth pursed his lips tightly together and nodded, but he soon dropped his eyes once more. Looking into the ageless orbs of a goddess, he had found, was no easy task.

After he had sent Patroclus back to the house, Achilles stayed behind to speak with his mother; overall, he was extremely pleased with how the previous meeting had transpired. With a smile which radiated maternal affection, the Nereid took his arm, and the two of them walked through the froth of waves along the beach.

"What do you think, Mother? Can Patroclus learn to be happy here with me as I hope he will?"

Thetis paused thoughtfully before responding. "The bond of trust you've established with him is still a delicate thing, my son, easily shattered and trampled upon if you are not careful. But for now, I see that it is growing steadily, like a new sapling which will require careful tending. He does trust you, Achilles, perhaps for reasons that even he himself does not fully understand; and if you are wise, you will not waste that."

* * *

><p>When Thetis left, the warmth seemed to go with her. That following day, the rare crystals of frost that had accumulated overnight melted in the daytime sun, but the temperature did not rise to what it should have been for their part of the country, even in winter.<p>

The uncommon cold was most noticeable down by the sea, where a chill wind blew in off of the water and actually kept most of Phthia's inhabitants away from the normally bustling shoreline. Like many others in the area, Patroclus spent the day with a wool cloak wrapped tightly around his shoulders; at times, he thought he could even see his breath making little clouds in the air when it left his mouth.

"Is it often this cold here?" he asked of Eudorus, whose answer was only marginally encouraging.

"No, usually the heat is what's unbearable. I've only ever been this cold up in the mountains; never here before, even at this time of year. Hopefully the worst will pass soon."

But naturally, the temperatures only dropped further with the inevitable setting of the sun that evening. There was a place for a small fire in their room, but Patroclus wished his couch was situated closer to it. He was already in bed now, curled up on himself and struggling to keep warm. Before long, Achilles walked in and appeared somewhat relieved to see that his charge was still awake.

"Come sleep with me, Patroclus," he ordered simply. "It will only get colder as the night goes on, and I don't want you to be getting sick again."

Patroclus couldn't argue with that statement. He crawled in under the heavy covers, truly thinking nothing of it; on a night like this, they both ought to be welcoming some extra warmth. Achilles joined him there shortly but intentionally left a generous space between them.

Later in the night, the warrior woke to feel Patroclus shivering in his sleep – whether from dreams or from the cold, Achilles couldn't tell. He experimentally moved closer up against Patroclus' back, and the boy unconsciously rolled over to face him, soaking in the additional body heat while his trembling was stilled. Achilles smiled a little and closed his eyes again. So it had been just the cold. If it had been dreams, Patroclus would have tried to put more distance between them, even in his sleep. It was definitely an improvement, as far as he was concerned.

Patroclus did not stir again until very early the next morning, in the darkness just before dawn. It was bitterly cold in the room, yet he was distantly aware of something warm and heavy across his middle. Patroclus' heart suddenly leapt into his throat as his eyes flew open. Achilles' sleeping face was directly in front of him, and the man's powerful arm was indeed wrapped around his waist.

_Get away, get away, _his instincts urged him, but he swallowed the reflex and forced himself to remain still. He did not want to startle Achilles awake by any mad scrambling on his part. _Besides, it's warm here, _he argued back with himself. _It's warm, and it's safe._

_Safe? _Had that thought really just arisen naturally, with no coercion whatsoever from his conscious mind? Did he truly believe that it was safe here, in bed beside the deadliest warrior in the world? So far it always had been; and certainly with Achilles so near, he didn't have to worry about anyone else being able to hurt him.

Very slowly he felt the tension drain out of his coiled muscles, and his heartbeat gradually returned to normal as his mind again grew calm. He did not have to be afraid here. Patroclus did not fall asleep again after that, yet he closed his eyes and was content to lie there resting in Achilles' warm embrace until the older man finally woke and released him later in the morning.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary: **An AU in which Patroclus is not Achilles' cousin, but rather a captive whom Achilles has rescued and claimed. The early development of their relationship in this new context, slash not intended. Set approx. two years pre-movie. Rating for some adult themes, but nothing explicit. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **As usual, I own nothing and no one.

**Author's Note: **Since I'm about to go out of town for the weekend and had the next chapter ready, I figured I might as well post this update a tad early. Not much else to say, except an expression of gratitude to **Trollmela, ILoveVampireDiaries, & triniwriters **once again for their reviews. Hope you all enjoy the next chapter!

**Chapter 5**

"Agamemnon has called for a summit of all the Greek kings in Mycenae, which should last for a couple of weeks; unfortunately, I have no choice but to attend."

Eudorus successfully masked a smile, amused to hear how his commander's sarcasm and disdain could work its way into even the most generic of statements. "And what will you require from me while you are away, my lord?"

"Only what you might normally do in my absence." Achilles paused briefly in his packing to consider. "And do check in on Patroclus here from time to time, Eudorus, if you would. I will tell him to expect you."

"If you prefer it, I would be happy to stay with him the entire time you are away."

"Truthfully, I would rather you did not. He trusts you, my friend, and it will be good for him to spend some time with you; but I also want him to have some time to himself."

"And if he tries to run away?" Eudorus was still dubious. "I know he hasn't even come close to attempting it before, but with you gone, it will be the perfect chance for him to try."

"Yes, exactly." Achilles' voice had become surprisingly confidential. "This is a test for him, Eudorus, whether he realizes it yet or not. I do not believe he'll run, having been with me for this long now, but I still want to see what he'll do if given the opportunity."

His captain finally conceded, nodding. "And if he does try to flee, rest assured I shall do everything in my power to retrieve him."

"Be gentle with him, even if he does," Achilles instructed earnestly. "I would want you to bring him back, of course, but I should hate for him to start fearing us again. We've come so far with him lately."

"Have you told him about this?" asked Eudorus.

"No, not yet. I plan on telling him tonight, before we go to bed. That won't give him very long to think about it, since I'll be leaving in the morning."

* * *

><p>Patroclus took the news much harder than Eudorus; it had never really occurred to him that Achilles might leave Phthia, for however short a time. But seeing that the departure apparently could not be avoided, he put on a brave face.<p>

"Is there anything I should do while you are gone?" the boy inquired, sounding very much like Eudorus as he did so.

"Only one thing. Follow me."

Upon offering that vague response, Achilles led them to an empty guestroom located just down the hall from his own chambers.

"I think it's time now that you had a room to yourself," he told Patroclus. "Do whatever you like here to make this one your own while I am away."

Though unexpected, the gesture was generous and fully deserving of the gratitude Patroclus expressed. Once again, though, he had to wonder at the timing of it all; for as they both knew, he was now perfectly comfortable sharing Achilles' room and occasionally even his bed. So why would the warrior choose to further separate them now? Was it only because he was leaving, and Patroclus would be sleeping alone anyway? It was a perplexing enough matter to keep the youth awake all night as he sought to mull it over.

True to his plans, Achilles took his leave the following morning.

"I should be gone no longer than three weeks," he reiterated to his captive. "Eudorus will be checking in on you every now and then, and I expect you'll see him tomorrow."

Patroclus only nodded, to which Achilles responded with one last smile and a reassuring squeeze of his shoulder. Then he was gone.

The first day by himself passed terribly slowly for Patroclus, yet he stayed awake long into the hours of the night, sitting in the open doorway of the house and staring out aimlessly into the dark. With a soft, trembling sigh, he drew his knees up to his chest and rapidly blinked back the tears that suddenly threatened to pour down his cheeks. The freedom he had once longed for was now directly in front of him, just waiting for him to stretch out his hand to claim it. Yet he could not bring himself to do so. Although there were no bonds to physically keep him there, he found he simply could not leave; even the mere thought of running away now filled his heart with a pang of guilt and shame at how ungrateful he was being.

After all, Achilles was obviously trusting him to stay; and it wasn't as though he had anywhere to run off to, either. What other home was there for him now, besides this place? Being an only child, Patrolcus knew nothing of sibling relationships; yet over the past few weeks, it had become more and more difficult for him to think of Achilles as anything but an older brother. And why should he wish to leave that?

The young Greek had no answer for that question, and he at last retired to his room after the pale moon had risen high.

* * *

><p>Eudorus did check in on Patroclus the next morning, just as Achilles had suspected he might. The Myrmidon held his breath as he entered his lord's home, fearful he would find the place deserted.<p>

But, no. Patroclus was there in the front room, already dressed to greet the day and looking decidedly downcast.

"Patroclus, are you all right?" Eudorus asked with some concern.

"Yes," the boy sighed petulantly. "But Achilles has only been gone for one day, Eudorus, and I'm already bored without him."

Eudorus chuckled, indescribably relieved to learn the source of his charge's dejection. "It is amazing how that man can commandeer so much time in your day, isn't it? But I have some errands to run down in the village, and I was wondering if you'd be interested in accompanying me? Then I think we should go back to my home for supper. My dogs haven't seen you in a while now, and I do believe they miss you."

The youth's face brightened visibly at the offer. "I would like that, thank you."

It certainly was true that not until Achilles was gone did Patroclus realize how much of his life had been consumed by his captor since their first meeting more than three months prior; and now the man's absence left a void that he did not quite know how to fill. Eudorus' company was helpful and very much appreciated, but it was just not the same.

Patroclus also appreciated his new room, but not the lonely nights spent there. It surprised him how difficult it was for him to sleep peacefully now that Achilles was gone and the entire house empty. The solitude should have been a relief, but instead he tossed and turned fitfully, his imagination rousing him back awake at the slightest sound.

And now more than ever, he had begun to dream about his parents again as well, a development which did little to improve his spirits. If anything, it just made his loneliness all the more painful. He could never forget his family entirely, but at least in Achilles' presence he could distract himself and pretend to forget. If only for a while.

On a couple of occasions, when he was exceptionally tired after such restless nights, he considered asking Eudorus to spend the night there and keep him company; but the suggestion never made it past his lips. After all, Achilles hadn't said anything about that option, and he still did not want to violate the man's wishes, even if he was absent.

* * *

><p>Only horses were present in the stables when Achilles finally arrived back in Phthia. As expected, the caucus of kings had been intolerably boring; Ajax had been there, thankfully, but the only person whose company Achilles had truly enjoyed was Odysseus, the wise King of Ithaca. All in all, it felt very good to be treading familiar ground again in his own lands.<p>

"You're back! I was almost beginning to worry about you."

Uncertain that he had heard correctly, Achilles turned his head and saw that he had not been deceived. Patroclus was indeed standing behind him with an easy, genuine smile beaming on his face; the boy had been the first one out to greet him and welcome him back home.

Recovering quickly from this most pleasant surprise, Achilles smiled right back at his charge. "You never have to worry about me, Patroclus," he teased lightly. "I'm just happy to see that you're still here. Eudorus didn't have to chase you down at all, did he?"

Still smiling, Patroclus shook his head and met Achilles halfway for a companionable hug and a hair ruffle that were truly agreeable to both parties. Although no other words were spoken then, it was in that moment when both Greeks knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that things were going to be all right in this current arrangement. They were bound by stronger ties now, going forward into whatever the future might hold.

That night, Patroclus stuck his head into Achilles' room just as the older man was preparing himself for his first night back in the comfort of his own bed.

"Achilles? Can I please stay with you tonight?"

"Of course. Is something troubling you?"

The boy shrugged noncommittally. "Nothing really. Just…a lot of dreams while you were away."

He gratefully climbed into bed and waited for Achilles to join him. Truth be told, he had almost slept here on his own while the older man was away; it was a more comfortable place, both literally and figuratively. Achilles laid an arm across his shoulders, and Patroclus readily consented to being drawn a little bit closer.

"I'm glad you're home."

_Home. _There, he had finally said it; he had even meant it, too.

"I am, too, Patroclus." Achilles smiled to himself knowingly. Although his young charge would never say "I missed you," the sentiment was undeniably there all the same. Eudorus had already communicated as much to him as well, when they had first talked after his arrival. It had taken precious time, but the trust he had hoped to nurture with this boy from the very beginning was finally in full bloom. It had been well worth the effort.

* * *

><p>"Patroclus, do you know how to handle a sword?"<p>

Achilles had been back in Phthia a full week when he posed that question, and Patroclus felt his heart flutter instantly with excitement. Was this conversation going where he thought it was going?

"Only a little," he confessed, "and not very well."

"Well, then, I think it's high time you learned. Would you like me to teach you?"

Patroclus could only nod at him, grinning broadly. He was almost afraid to betray to the warrior exactly how much he would really, really like to be taught! It had been his secret hope for some weeks now.

Achilles happily returned the grin, not fooled in the least by the boy's attempts at restraining his joy. "Good. We'll start in the morning, then."

They did, and their sparring soon became a tradition that was upheld nearly every day Achilles was home in Phthia and not off fighting in some battle for Agamemnon. Two years passed in this manner, and Patroclus grew strong and tall, proving himself to be a fast learner under his mentor's tutelage.

All seemed relatively peaceful then, both between the two friends and in the world beyond. Until one bright and sunny morning when everything changed – the morning when Odysseus arrived with the intention of luring Achilles to immortality on the golden sands of Troy.

* * *

><p>Achilles smiled beneath the heat of the glaring sun as he introduced his two friends to one another. "Odysseus, this is Patroclus. Patroclus, this is Odysseus, King of Ithaca."<p>

Patroclus offered an appropriate bow to the monarch, and Odysseus nodded to him in turn before looking back at Achilles.

"Pardon the interruption, my friend, but may I speak with you?"

"Of course." The warlord made a quick gesture with his head, and Patroclus, understanding, wordlessly took his leave of the two kings so they could converse in private.

When the youth had gone, Odysseus regarded his colleague with a bemused twinkle in his eye. "And who exactly is this boy, Achilles? Some distant relative of yours?"

"No," the famed warrior chuckled, "no relation. He's just a servant."

"A servant?" The older king was incredulous. "I hope you don't expect me to believe that. Mere servants are not so privileged as to learn from Achilles himself – an honor kings would kill for."

Achilles sighed, squinting up into the blazing sun. "It's…kind of a long story, actually."

But Odysseus was a patient man. "I'm listening – not to mention curious."

And sensing that he would not be able to avoid a full revelation, the Myrmidon obliged. "Technically, Patroclus is my captive. When I first found him two years ago, he was already a prisoner – newly orphaned, homeless, and dreadfully abused. I still don't know if I was right to bring him with me and force him to live here; but if I had not done so, the only sensible thing would have been to kill him quickly myself the moment I discovered him. It certainly would have been the only merciful thing to do."

The Ithacan smiled at him with surprising warmth. "You are a better man than most people know, Achilles."

"Thank you, but I would prefer if you kept that strictly between us. I've spent too long building my reputation into what it is."

Odysseus laughed. "As you wish, my friend. But in all seriousness: Patroclus is technically your captive, like you said – a slave, a prisoner of war. Yet I can see that, essentially, he has become much more to you than that – your charge, your companion, perhaps even an adopted brother of sorts. Or do I go too far there?"

"Not too far, no," Achilles admitted freely. "But enough about Patroclus, Odysseus. Why don't you tell me why you are really here?"

**Author's End Note: **Yes, that's correct: with a quick hop, skip, and a jump, we have now arrived at the movie timeline, for better or for worse. Only one more chapter to go now, so I'll see you all there!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary: **An AU in which Patroclus is not Achilles' cousin, but rather a captive whom Achilles has rescued and claimed. The early development of their relationship in this new context, slash not intended. Set approx. two years pre-movie. Rating for some adult themes, but nothing explicit. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **As usual, I own nothing and no one.

**Author's Note: **In conclusion here, I would just like to say that the hardest thing about writing this fic was preventing Achilles & Patroclus from accidentally referring to one another as "cousin." And believe me, they both wanted to on multiple occasions! One last big Thank You to my wonderful reviewers **Trollmela****, TwilightEyes85, frapanappy, SBPride, & ILoveVampireDiaries **- I hope you've all enjoyed our emotional little journey with these characters!

**Chapter 6**

"We're going to Troy?"

Of course, Patroclus would have heard by now; it was unrealistic to expect that he would not have.

"The Myrmidons and I are going to Troy," Achilles responded with deliberate slowness. "But I would not make that decision for you."

Patroclus only frowned, confused by where this conversation was headed. It was a difficult subject for Achilles to broach, as well; but after speaking with his mother earlier that afternoon, he felt compelled to offer Patroclus a choice of his own. For Zeus knew he did not want to lead the boy against his will into what could easily become a den of devastation and death.

"Patroclus, you are nearly grown now, and I leave this choice to you. If you wish to accompany me to Troy, you may; but if it is now your desire to leave Phthia and begin a new life elsewhere, you are likewise free to do so. You would even have my blessing."

He watched Patroclus closely as he spoke, trying to gauge how the seventeen-year-old might respond to such unexpected liberty.

"Do you mean that you want me to go live somewhere else?" If anything, Patroclus appeared hurt by the mere thought.

"I am giving you the opportunity," Achilles quickly clarified. "But only if you want it."

"Why would I want to leave now, after all you've done for me?"

"Because we go to a war in Troy, and it may be very dangerous even for those under my protection." _And because I do not know if I will be returning from there._

"I will go with you!" Patroclus declared at once. "You know I have nowhere else to go, and there is no one I would rather be with than you. Please do not leave me behind."

Achilles felt as though something had melted inside his chest. "I will do no such thing," he said gently, reaching out to pull the boy into a heartfelt hug and whispering in his ear. "But you should know now that I cannot let you fight while we are there. You are a good student, Patroclus, but you're not a Myrmidon yet. It is too soon for me to see you risk your life in mortal combat."

"I understand," the youth complied, nodding into his captor's shoulder. His tone spoke plainly of disappointment, but hardly of surprise at Achilles' order; hopefully he would obey with equal willingness once they actually arrived in Troy and battles were being fought on a daily basis.

"Good." Achilles finally drew back from their embrace. "We will be leaving in two days, then."

* * *

><p>Patroclus had never traveled by ship before. After battling nausea and dizziness for the first day or so, he had finally established his sailors' legs underneath himself and could now move freely about the deck despite any turbulence from the waves. He actually found the salty sea breeze invigorating, now that his stomach had settled down.<p>

Eudorus sought him out after they had been at sea for a couple of days. "I hear you turned down an offer of freedom," he said simply.

Patroclus only smiled. "That it was even offered is enough for me. But Achilles has been so kind to me, Eudorus; even as a free man, I could never leave him now. I should be happy to spend the rest of my life in his service, like you have done."

Eudorus smiled and reached up to gently ruffle the boy's hair; it still amazed him to see how tall their young captive had grown. "And I'm sure he would be happy if you outlived him by many years; outlived all of us, for that matter."

"Not by too many years, I hope," the youth replied, chuckling, but the intense sincerity in his words had been unmistakable. He was not so naïve as to think that even the infamous Myrmidons could escape from a war such as this with their ranks entirely unscathed, yet neither did he wish to contemplate the prospect of losing any number of these men whom he had come to think of as his friends.

The battle to storm the beach was bad enough. Having only fifty soldiers to begin with, the Myrmidons lost nearly one third of their members during that first fray, and it was difficult for Patroclus to feel any joy at the victory as he helped his colleagues assemble their camp. But even that internal struggle was nothing compared to the trials which awaited him later that evening, after the sun had hid its face beyond the western sea.

Eventually, he was driven from his own resting place, so that the middling hours of the night found him seated just inside the entrance to Achilles' tent. At least it was quieter here, and with any luck, he would be able to slip out again at daybreak before Achilles even noticed. But the gods knew it couldn't continue like this – not if he ever wanted to sleep again.

He shifted in the sand where he sat, pulling his long legs up to his chest and resting his chin on his knees. It seemed he had underestimated Achilles' warrior instincts, however, for that slight movement was enough to disturb the older man in his sleep and betray that he was not alone in the dark.

"Patroclus?"

The youth flinched at being found out, but he freely confessed his presence nonetheless. "I'm sorry, Achilles; I didn't want to wake you. I can go, if you like."

"What's wrong?"

Achilles' voice was more relaxed now that he knew his late-night intruder, but Patroclus shook his head, avoiding the other's concerned gaze from across the tent. "I just can't sleep out there with the rest of them…"

The youth's voice trailed off, failing him, but Achilles understood completely. His pretty priestess had not been the only female captive taken that day, and no doubt the sight and sound of some of the men "celebrating" their victory would have struck much too close to an old and very painful nerve for Patroclus. He had even noticed that after two years the boy was still sensitive just to the smell of too much wine nearby and avoided drinking it whenever possible; for memories of such things as this youth had endured during his week of torment were not easily forgotten.

The sight of it all culminating in front of him now stirred up pity once again in Achilles' soul, as well as renewing his fierce desire to protect the child he had claimed for better or for worse.

"I see," he said at length. "Well, there's no need for you to stay awake the whole time you're here. Come on." He patted the other side of his bed to signify that Patroclus should join him, which he did with a shy, appreciative smile.

The next morning, Achilles woke first to feel Patroclus huddled close up against his back; the warrior rolled over to face his charge, affectionately smoothing down the long hair that had become so typically disheveled during the night. Whether he intended it to or not, his touch roused the boy from slumber, and Achilles impulsively kissed him on the forehead where his hand had just been a moment before.

"Did you sleep well?"

Patroclus smiled sleepily at him and nodded an affirmative. "Thank you for letting me stay here."

"You are always welcome." Achilles rose to dress for the day, while Patroclus remained prostrate along the furs. "And you are welcome to stay here this morning for as long as you like, if you're still tired from last night. There is no hurry."

Patroclus raised his head from the pillows, suddenly more attentive. "Thank you…but I thought the armies were marching in toward the city today?"

"The armies are marching, but the Myrmidons and I will not be joining them. You and I are the only ones who know that right now, though."

"They will miss you." The boy sounded concerned.

In spite of enjoying his captive's company, Achilles sneered. "I hope they do, and I hope Agamemnon sees it. But that is not something you need to worry yourself over, Patroclus. The affairs of kings are more tiresome than any battle I've ever been in."

* * *

><p>Observing the battle that afternoon was like watching a nightmare unfold; and by the end of the day, after losing two of their kings along with thousands of other soldiers, there were few positives that any living Greek could take away from the experience. Achilles could have probably managed to find one or two, though, as Patroclus suspected his friend had taken no small pleasure in seeing Agamemnon so utterly humiliated. But surely he did not likewise rejoice to see the brutal slaughter of so many of his countrymen?<p>

Today's battle had not been Patroclus' first encounter with death, by any means, but it had marked his first exposure to the gruesome realities of mass warfare. Even as far away from the battlefield as he had been, the carnage and the casualties still weighed like an anchor around his heart. Was Achilles really so hardened and so callused that he did not feel the same in light of his comrades' suffering? Did he even view them as his comrades at all?

That night was certainly more solemn than the last. Once again, the only person who seemed to have any reason to celebrate was Achilles, who had retrieved his priestess from Agamemnon's clutches with all the fury of an avenging deity. No doubt _he _had enjoyed his evening, for he was in undeniably pleasant spirits the following morning when Odysseus came once again to request his aid on the High King's behalf. That soured his mood a little.

Yet when the Ithacan left after having been universally rejected, Patroclus took his own turn at attempting to soften that heart of stone. For privacy's sake, he had initially wanted to wait until Achilles returned inside his tent to have this discussion, which was sure to turn into some sort of argument; but then he remembered the priestess. She would still be there, and he was no more eager to have her overhear this conversation than Eudorus or any of the other Myrmidons.

The young Achaean couldn't help feeling bitter just at the very thought of that girl; although it may have been through no direct fault of her own, she was still essentially responsible for the dissension in the Greek ranks which had led to so much destruction. And even now that Achilles had her back, the warrior showed no sign of intending to rejoin the conflict. As a matter of fact, his plans now were quite the opposite, as Eudorus was already busy communicating to the rest of them.

"Are we really going home?"

Achilles detected the hurt and disbelief in the boy's words, and therefore he held his tongue. Patroclus was not aware of all that Thetis had revealed; he should not be expected to agree with or even comprehend Achilles' reasoning when it came to Briseis.

"I don't understand you," the youth entreated. "How could you have been so kind to me – a complete stranger with absolutely nothing to offer you in return – and yet now you would abandon your countrymen in their hour of greatest need?"

"That was different," Achilles explained sternly. "These are grown men here, Patroclus, not defenseless children such as you were then."

"I don't see the difference," Patroclus protested. "These soldiers are here only by the order of their kings, not of their own free choice. Please, Achilles, don't be like this; they need you."

"I know. But Agamemnon must say as much before I will return to battle for him."

"Does Agamemnon really matter? Isn't it enough for you that the soldiers know you are the one who truly brings them victory?"

"No, it is not enough." Achilles' patience had apparently run out, for his voice had turned cold. "But that is enough of this conversation, and you will speak no more of these matters."

A hundred phrases varying from venomous to distraught rose to Patroclus' lips, but he bit down on them all and whirled away from his captor without another word. Even graced by Achilles' favor as he was, he could not disobey such a direct order.

That night, Trojans attacked by raining fire down on the Greek encampments. So much of what they had brought was easily combustible, and it wasn't long before the scalding flames were everywhere. To Patroclus, the sea seemed like the only safe place to be then; but with the heat and the screams surrounding him on all sides, the youth was flung viciously back to a time when similar screams were torn from the mouths of people he had known and loved even better than these men here. No longer was it ships that he saw burning, but his own home and other familiar buildings in the village where he had been raised. The memories overwhelmed him, and he could not escape them.

Yes, he was bound by his love for and loyalty to Achilles, but was he not likewise bound by duty to his countrymen? How could he possibly abandon them now, when they were in such desperate need of aid? Had he been trained two years ago like he was now, then without question he would have sought to save his family back on that dark day. At last, he could be still no longer, and his desperate feet soon brought him behind Achilles' tent, to where the warrior's weapons and glorious armor were stored.

The boy's own tears splashed like raindrops on the breastplate when he picked it up with trembling hands, because the only thing that hurt him more than betraying Achilles' trust was seeing his countrymen helplessly massacred while their only hope of salvation sad idly by and did nothing to assist them. Well, if he would not, then Patroclus would. If his plan succeeded and he survived the battle, Achilles might very well kill him himself for his insolent disobedience; but that right to end his life had belonged to Achilles as his captor since the very beginning.

If he died by a Trojan's sword, he would die fighting until his final breath; but if he was doomed to perish afterward at Achilles' hand, there would be no resistance. There had never been any resistance on his part, nor would there be even now. Achilles had become as vital to him as life itself, but he had to do this.

At the very least, he had to try.

**Author's End Note: **And we all know what happens after this, so I'm calling it quits right here! No need to pile on even more angst, especially since nothing will have really changed as far as the impending battle and the bloody aftermath are concerned. Feel free to look back at some of my older stories if you need a reminder of how it ends. Thanks for reading, everyone!


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